


Buffy

by CantSpeakFae



Series: The Scars Souvenir [8]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Episode Revisit + Revision, Written from Xander's P.O.V
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 14:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18166451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CantSpeakFae/pseuds/CantSpeakFae
Summary: This shouldn't be so scary. She's Buffy. He knows Buffy. They're pals. They could be more than pals, if he could just get the words out.





	Buffy

By the time spring rolls around, Xander feels like a whole different person, eons away from who he was when Sophomore year started. Jesse feels like a distant memory. He still grieves, but it’s so hard not to go numb to it all when there’s a new trauma to contend with every day and thing start to blur together.   
  
The only thing that hasn’t changed for him - besides his home life - was how he felt about Buffy.   
  
When he’d first seen her, he’d thought she was bright. No, _really_. Golden hair and a golden smile and a nice, California girl tan. Something new to oggle at - a girl he’d never seen before, never fantasized about before. A girl who didn’t know what a loser he was and still had lots of time to learn by trial and error. It was superficial, at first, he’d admit. But…  
  
Well, he got to know her. Learned who she was beyond just a girl. Learned the strength behind that smile. The weight on those shoulders, the shadows under those eyes and the world of darkness she lived in; a world that she let them step in and out of when she needed them. He feels so… lucky to be allowed to exist in the same space as her. To know what she’s thinking, for her to tell him things. But how was he supposed to tell her how great he thought she was? How could he ever express what it meant to be part of this, to have a role to play in this ongoing war. A reason to keep trying, to keep going, to just get up in the morning.   
  
He didn’t know enough words. Didn’t know good enough words. The only thing he could think to do was try to reach her through mundane terms anyone would know.   
  
The Spring dance. It’s not a dinner in Paris or an impressive dream sequence where he vanquishes a big bad and saves her life, leaving her trembling and grateful for him - _he knows that in real life, roles are reversed, and she’s the one kicking ass while he screams in the corner, but that’s why dreams are dreams_ \- but it’s something. The only thing he has to try and use to reach her with, because he’s not rich, he’s not all that good looking, and he’s got _Angel_  to contend with.   
  
So, he tries.   
  
“Wow, that was boring,” Buffy complained as they started down the stairs, another Biology class under their belts, but no new knowledge retained. High-school was funny like that.   
  
“I don’t feel that boring covers it.” Xander agreed, his heart hammering unevenly in his chest. Okay, class was over. Now he was gonna tell her - now he was going to ask. He was going to put it all out there and hope that he had enough to offer that she’d even consider him.  
  
“No, boring falls short.”  
  
“Even I was bored. And I'm a science nerd.” Willow chimed in, suddenly reminding Xander that she was there. Uh-oh. He can’t do a declaration of puppy-love in front of his bestest friend. He loves Willow, he does, but the fact that he’s going to even try this is already nerve-wracking enough that the last thing he needs an audience.   
  
“Don’t say that!”   
  
“I’m not ashamed. It’s the computer age. Nerds are in.” Willow said, proudly, before a frown curled her lips. “They’re still in, right?”   
  
Xander considers letting the discussion continue, letting Willow stall until it’s too late to ask and he can blame prolonged conversation instead of admitting that he’s a big ol’ chicken, but no. He can’t waste this one moment of confidence so he clears his throat and nudges Willow from behind.   
  
“Willow, don’t you have a thing?”   
  
“A thing?” Willow asked, confused, glancing back at him. He stared meaningfully at her and her eyes widened. “The thing! That I have! Which is...a thing that I have to go to!”   
  
Sounds real natural, doesn’t? Xander has to close his eyes to keep from full-body cringing as they reached the bottom of the stairs, but luckily Buffy didn’t have time to question the sudden shift in their body language, because Willow bid them a quick farewell and disappeared into the crowd of migrating Sunnydale students.  
  
Leaving him. Alone with Buffy. Who looked bemused and concerned and not even a little romanced. Well, he hadn’t gotten to the romance part, yet, so maybe that would change… but, still.   
  
“What on earth is her deal?” Buffy asked, and Xander just shrugged.  
  
“Uh, she’s Willow.” He laughed. It was tinged with nerves. “So, uh, Buffy. I wanted to, um… There was this thing I wanted to ask you, to talk to you about.”   
  
Yeah, that was real smooth. Regular Casanova. For god's sake, Harris, can you ever make-a the talking good? But, Buffy just shrugged and tossed her hair over her shoulder. It’s bouncy and shiny and distracts Xander for a second.   
  
“Okay, what’s up?”   
  
“Uh, let’s go over here and sit.” He suggested, leading the way to a bench out in the courtyard. Sitting would be of the good. Sitting would be of the great. His legs are shaky and his knees feel like jello. This shouldn’t be so scary. She’s Buffy. He knows Buffy. They’re pals - they could be more than pals, if he could just get the words out.   
  
“Okay, now you’re making me nervous,” Buffy told him, eyeing him with concern, now. And he panics, tripping over his words in the haste to get them out of his mouth.   
  
“Oh, no, no! There’s nothing to be nervous about. Really, it’s silly. Ha, ha!” He said, laughing with his own nerves. Practically humming with anticipation and fear. He can’t remember the last time he was this scared around a girl. Maybe with Ms. French when it seemed like she was actually going to want to have sex with him and that was _before_  the bug thing.   
  
The bench already has a body on it. Xander barely looks at the guy.   
  
“Hey.” He said, jerking his head when the boy looked up. “Leave. Thanks.”   
  
And then they sat. And there was no more stalling to be done. Buffy is looking at him. _Really_ looking at him and it’s just them and he’s thrilled but…  
  
“Well?” Buffy asked.  
  
He takes a deep breath and blots his hands on his jeans.   
  
“Um… You know, Buffy, uh... Spring Fling is a time for… students to gather and… Oh god!” He sounds like an idiot. He is an idiot. Stupidest, dumbest, fooliest - _is that the right word? Doesn’t sound like it_ \- guy on campus. And he’s still talking. “Buffy, I want you to go to the dance with me. You and me, on a date.”   
  
There it is.   
  
It’s out there. He knows that she knows that he’s liked her for a while, but there’s always been plausible deniability and the never-actually-speaking-the-words to keep her from fully rejecting him on the basis that he’s not nearly good enough for her. But...maybe she won’t. Maybe she’ll say, “I’ve been waiting for so long for you to say that you want me, you big hunk of man you!”   
  
Okay, probably not that. But something like it? Maybe?   
  
But Buffy just stares at him. “I-I don’t know what to say.”   
  
Not a great response, but could get better, right? “Well, you’re not laughing. So, that’s a start. Buffy, I like you. A lot.” A lot, a lot. But he’s pretty sure he’s been clear on that. “And I know we’re friends and we’ve had experiences… we’ve fought some blood-sucking fiends and that’s all been a good time but I want more. I wanna dance with you.”   
  
‘ _I wanna dance with you’?_ What kind of lame… but, it’s true. He does want that. He wants that little piece of normal where he gets to hold her through a slow song, swaying awkwardly to the beat because he’ll always be just a little gangly and uncoordinated… but it’ll be normal and it’ll be good because she’s always saying that’s what she wants and he could be that for her, if just for a little bit.  
  
“Xander, you're one of my best friends. You and Willow…” Buffy starts to say, her tone gentle. Too gentle. I-don’t-feel-the-same gentle. And he starts to panic.  
  
“Well, Willow's not looking to date you. Or if she is, she's playing it pretty close to the chest.” He laughs. He always goes for funny, retreating behind his clownish persona when he gets too reveal-y.   
  
“I don't want to spoil the friendship that we have.” Buffy says. Her eyes are sad.  
  
“Well, I don't want to spoil it either.” Xander says. He should drop it. He should let it go, but his screaming brain isn’t giving that memo to his big, stupid mouth because here come more words, tumbling out. “But that's not the point, is it? You either feel a thing or you don't.”  
  
Buffy looked down, for a minute. And she’s apologetic when she looks back up, which does not bode well for her answer to him. “I don’t. Xander, I’m… I’m sorry. I-I just don’t think of you that way.”   
  
He desperately stabs at funny again. “Well, try. I’ll wait.”   
  
She doesn’t laugh. Just looks at him with those sad eyes and that pitying smile and he thinks that’s what sends the shame and humiliated anger up through him. When she looks at him like she wants desperately out of the conversation because the second-hand shame she’s getting from him is too much.   
  
“Xander…”   
  
“Nah. Forget it,” Xander says, standing. He’s angry now. He knows he has no right to be. He said what he said, she said what she said. He should let it go. Forget it. Leave it right there. But he doesn’t. He thinks of Angel and, even though he knows that it probably wouldn’t make a difference if Deadboy was involved or not, he blames him. “I’m not him. I mean, I guess a guy’s gotta be undead to make time with you.”   
  
He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. The pity falls from her expression, but it’s replaced with hurt and (justly) anger.   
  
“That’s really harsh.”   
  
“Look, I’m sorry,” Xander says. And he means it, but his voice is still rough and thick. “I don’t handle rejection well. Funny! Considering all the practice I’ve had, huh?”   
  
God, why can’t he ever stop with the jokes? The pity comes back and he hates that.   
  
“Xander, I’m sorry. I don’t know…”   
  
“You know what?” Xander says, interrupting her. “Let’s just not.”   
  
Advice he wishes someone would have given him, this morning. What was he thinking? That he’d ever be good enough - that he could hold a candle to someone like Angel? And then getting mad at her when she _doesn’t_  feel the same? It’s so stupid. He’s so stupid. He turns away and walks toward the building, his head hung low, thinking desperately, imagining a world where he never told her. Wondering if he could will it into reality if he tried hard enough. This is a Hellmouth, after all. Almost anything is possible.   
  
 _It doesn’t happen. So much for the power of wishful thinking._


End file.
